Great Escape
by kazema
Summary: ...to cheat oneself out of love is the most terrible deception... can they deceive themselves long enough to accept the reality? DMHG fic
1. no other option

Disclaimer: The characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

A/N: Took place three years after the final battle (not much 'action' here: not too good at it so I won't even try).

**Chapter1**

**No other option**

When the battle was finally over, Hermione had decided to stay away from the wizarding world temporarily despite Professor Dumbledore's and Professor McGonagall's persistence that she should pursue being an Auror. They said she had the courage and brilliance the Ministry needed to completely obliterate the Death Eaters.

No ordinary teenager she was, three years ago already a full-fledged member of the Order. Chasing evil wizards and working for the Order would have been great to satisfy her thirst for adventure but her priorities were pointing her to spend time with her parents. She wanted to make up for the times she missed for almost seven years.

Hermione had never been more secretive as she had been during the later years of her studies. Her parents didn't know neither about the battle nor Voldemort's threat to the muggleborn witches and the wizarding community as a whole. The last thing she wanted to happen was to be forbidden to finish her studies, to be forbidden to ever return to Hogwarts after sixth year.

What the battle left in her was a scar on her left shoulder. It was a three-inch long scar caused by a shattered glass that flew while red and green beam of lights blinded her eyesight. If her parents learned her secret, she will never ever be allowed to return and there was no way they would let her go back there.

The only indication that she was not far moved from the world she love was her wand, safely hidden under her mountain of clothes in the mahogany closet and her owl named Snow. The owl gave a startled hooting after she slammed the door so hard, it was a miracle it didn't broke down.

_They can't force me to marry now. Not now when I thought of going back to work for the Order._ This was Hermione's sentiment as she locked herself in her room, pacing up and down on her red carpeted floor, feeling defeated. The gloomy atmosphere in the room added to her hopeless state. Hysterical that was what she felt. Their reason: To secure her future, which she found to be ridiculous no matter how noble their intentions may have been; it is still simply unacceptable. _If they want to secure my future, they better let me be, let me do what I want. And what I want now? I don't want to get married. _

The room seemed to be getting smaller to contain her anger and apprehension. A loud thud echoed in the room as she opened the sliding door which led to the balcony. The cold night breeze and the darkness of the night loomed before her. It was a very beautiful evening, with a full moon and countless stars scattered in the sky as though thousands of diamonds were sprinkled on black velvet cloth. But no matter how beautiful the evening was, she could not appreciate the sight. The wind blew once more and it brought chills all over her body that was only covered by an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. It was piercingly cold but she must have gone numb after hearing her parents' _plans_ for her life.

Hermione hugged herself, in an attempt to protect her bare arms from the chilly wind. She had never felt this helpless before. She gazed at the thousand lights of the houses below; she was apparently still in shock from what her parents told her at dinner earlier that evening. Two weeks from now, she will be married to a _stranger_. They didn't even tell her who he was or where he was from and to think, she will be spending the rest of her life with him. The idea of it sent a bitter taste to her mouth. What if she could not bring herself to like him?

At the age of twenty, she could say she had physically changed, but remained to be the bushy-haired girl she was back in her Hogwarts days. The only time she remembered having a good hair-day was at the Yule Ball in her fourth year. After using liberal amounts of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, she got a lot of compliments which she knew were not all sincere. Someone even suggested she use the potion every day, but then she said _'it is way too much trouble to do every day.' _

As the wind blew her hair which had become less frizzy over the years, she gripped the railings tightly and looked beyond the lights below. Her head ached for trying to come up with a solution to her present predicament. _There must be a way out of this. Or maybe there just isn't. Maybe I should just jump off the balcony._ Hermione thought bitterly, her eyes narrowed, making out what loomed down the dark abyss. It was more or less forty feet below. Without a doubt, she would die instantly and she would never have to marry the stranger. She could do herself a favor and solve the problem in a blink of an eye. But it would also mean she could never experience the excitement and thrill of being out there in the wizarding world again, chasing evil wizards _if _ever she got the chance to return there at all. It was something she wouldn't want to miss.

Realizing she's too young to die yet, she brushed away the nasty thought. She always dreamed of falling in love; to find that one person who is meant for her; to have her own family. A small smile formed on her lips at the instance the thought came to her bewildered mind. She found it slightly funny to be thinking of such matters at a time like this, when all hope seemed to be gone.

"How can they do this?" said Hermione, barely above a whisper, in a tone of disbelief. Tears of frustration flowed down her cheeks. She had been restraining herself to cry during her heated conversation with her parents earlier over dinner. The last thing she wanted to happen was to show weakness in front of them. The argument started from her parents' reminders that they let her do what she wanted which was to study in Hogwarts and it was only fair that she obey them now. They said it was for her benefit. As the argument replayed itself in her mind, it suddenly made sense why they became too strict on her. The row ended when Hermione ran upstairs to her room. It was only later that she realized that she gave them the victory by simply running off like that. They were so firm on their decision, as though nothing could change their minds about that despicable marriage.

When the coldness was piercing her to the bone, she went inside the comforts of her room, feeling its warm atmosphere wash over her. But her thoughts were still troubled. She took some parchment and quill from her desk drawer and without wasting much time, scribbled busily, her brows creased in concentration. The content was about the _marriage_ and how _absurd_ it was and so on. She was going to ask for advice, though she wasn't expecting to get a decent one. _What do they know anyway? _Harry had his own problems to think about and Ron's sense of humor makes him somewhat incapable to give advice, especially concerning marriage. There was nothing else to do but to let them know at least.

Hermione finally admitted to herself that this time, she didn't know what to do. It scared her to think that she could not get out of this mess. Writing to her two best friends about her present situation somehow gave her a feeling of security. She could definitely use all the help she can get. If she was able to help in defeating Voldemort, then she could get away from this. The final battle was more difficult to deal with than an arranged marriage.

She moved towards her white-feathered owl Snow, who looked just like Hedwig but when one would look closely, the difference could be spotted. Snow's eyes were smaller than Hedwig's and she has one black feather on her tail. It was a gift from Harry and Ron just before she left for home. All this time of being apart for almost three years, Snow's all she got to send letters to her friends. They do sometimes get together but _sometimes_ is an understatement.

Her occasional get together with her _friend, _from at least twice a month had been reduced to once every two months. They were afraid she might one day decide to return to the wizarding world. It just showed they were not really concerned about her future because they were more concerned with themselves. Their fear of her leaving one of these days was resurfacing, getting clearer as she thought of it. She never thought of leaving them any time soon but what they were _doing_ might just push her over the edge.

After making sure that the rolled parchments were tied securely on Snow's leg, she went to the balcony. The icy wind pierced her body like a thousand knives. "Snow, deliver this letter to Harry and Ron." The owl rubbed its head on her palm before leaving. She watched Snow sped into the night. When all she could see was a speck of what was left of the owl, she went inside the room and sat on her comfortable bed, a bit relieved and worried. _Well, it's worth the try._

The urge to hold her wand just like old times came over her. She opened her closet and took her wand, in a grip like she used to. After the battle, a lot had changed. The Death Eaters who were captured were sent to Azkaban, where they would be staying for good, unless the laws have changed regarding the penalty for Voldemort's supporters. As for the others who were still at large, the Ministry of Magic was still doing its best to make sure no wizards and witches, most of all, muggles will be put to danger by the Death Eaters who were wandering freely.

As far as she was concerned, she didn't know what happened to the _others, _to those who _joined_ or were _forced_ to participate in the final battle. Ron once mentioned in his letter, the very first letter he sent her after she left that Malfoy was working in the Ministry as an Auror. Up until now, she still could not believe that Malfoy came to the right side. She had no idea what happened to him during those several months he and Snape were gone while she and the others believed Dumbledore to be dead. She and the other students were trained as members of the Order during seventh year. Hogwarts was not officially open for a school year but it was a training ground for them and sometimes, a safe place for witches and wizards whose life was threatened.

Maybe they used Veritaserum on Malfoy. That was the only logical explanation for the acceptance of his application as an Auror. But according to Harry, it was Dumbledore who recommended Malfoy. If that was the case, _maybe_ Malfoy did deserve the job just like anybody else. After all, he helped in defeating Voldemort; him and Snape, they who were not really her most favorite people in the world. It all the more proved that he had in fact been sincere in joining their side.

She was also proud of Harry, who became an Auror after the battle while Ron worked in the Ministry of Magic, as his Dad's apprentice. He was studying a lot of things about muggles. He seemed into it so very much and sounded happy in the letters he sent her. She hoped that if ever she got the chance to pay them a visit at the Ministry, Malfoy's path and hers won't cross. It had never for once and she felt lucky for that.

To see him again was not in her 'most wanted' list of activities. She didn't want to see him. She did not want to acknowledge the fact that she felt pity for him after all that he had done, torturing her emotionally for six years. He looked miserable the last time she saw him and she can not help but wonder why. Then again, if she would see him, she hoped he wouldn't look as miserable as the last time. She did not want to waste her time wondering why he looked like hell. What he did to her was not yet forgotten; the insults and everything that came with it. But half year after her seventh year, when she saw him again looking like he had not had any peace of mind at all. It was enough to make her forgive him for what he's done. It had been almost three years of a Malfoy-free life. She had been lucky, so much lucky not to bump into him whenever she went to the Ministry of Magic. It was one of the benefits of being away for awhile from the wizarding world.

..o-.-.o.-.-o..

Hermione didn't pretend that everything was fine. Her parents may have thought of her as being childish but she can't act as if they didn't deserve the cold treatment she'd been giving them. Lately, there's only one option to consider: to run away, get as far away as she could from manipulation and future misery. She would only show up after the wedding or weeks after it, when her parents would finally realize what they're trying to do. They were assuring themselves that she won't leave just because she will be married to a muggle, _maybe._

Her room had been her sanctuary for the past few days. She'd been waiting for Harry's and Ron's replies. Finally one evening while she was reading one of her favorite magical books, a week after her letters were sent to them, letters arrived delivered by Snow. To her disappointment, they were not that much of help as she hoped them to be. All they could offer her was sympathy and some words of encouragement such as: they wish they could be there for her but unfortunately they were both busy with their work, and knowing her, she will be able to solve it. They had too much confidence in her compared to what confidence she had in herself.

Only minutes after receiving letters from her best friends, another one came, this time from an owl she didn't recognize. She took the parchment and was stunned midway to opening it when she read who it was from: _Dumbledore._ She read the letter, and then she read it again. It was easy to understand but she had to read it twice to make sure she wasn't imagining things.

Professor Dumbledore wanted her to return. He said he'd be giving her two weeks to decide. She was not sure if she was ready even though she did want to come back. She had many things on her mind that she thought it would be best to answer Professor Dumbledore's letter without giving an answer but an assurance that she would think about it. She almost said yes, that she'll be there but restrained herself. If she did, there would be no turning back. First things first and Professor Dumbledore will have to wait. The sooner she got the marriage out of the way, the better it'll be.

Days had quickly gone by, during which she had many sleepless nights. To make things worst, there had been a change of plans. Instead of having to meet her 'future husband' on the day of the wedding itself, she would meet him a week before the big day or rather her _doom day_. It was for some sort of _enough time_, as her parents put it, to get to know him. It gave her all the right to panic. It seemed her parents were confident that she won't do anything stupid. Just because she hadn't brought up her disagreement with regard the 'marriage' doesn't mean she's going to do as they say, that she would wait around till that day comes. They had no idea she was up to something. She may be a goody-two-shoe but there were always instances when she had to stray away from the well-trodden path. They'll be disappointed in her.

There had, again, been another change of plans: the groom will show up on the wedding day itself. It seemed like she was not the only one who had objections about the marriage. She could feel her husband-to-be may possibly be against it as well. _At least he was smart enough to disagree to the dreadful marriage._ It was a good sign because she wasn't interested at all in meeting him.

Two days before the weeding date, Hermione sent a letter to Harry, telling him about her plans of running away and that she would tell him as soon as possible what has happened either personally or in a letter, she was not sure. She noted in the letter that for the moment she would put Snow in his custody with a reminder to keep the 'marriage problem' a secret as much as possible and to send her regards to Ron as well, and to the others.

It was almost tempting to give in to Professor Dumbledore's wishes but again, it took all her logical thinking to block it out. She can't just leave and go straight to Hogwarts. She needed to deal first with getting the message across to her parents. The message which said she won't be getting married the day after tomorrow.

Just before the sun's rays peeked from the horizon, a day before the dreaded event, Hermione cautiously moved about her room. She took her luggage from her closet and silently cast the _Reducio_ spell on it. As far a she knew, it wasn't illegal.

The living room was dark but she has known exactly where she's headed: to the front door. She wrote a note for her parents explaining she was off to see her friends to tell them about the _big event_. By the time they realize that it had been taking her too long to come back, she would be miles away. Having her wand safely tucked in the pocket of her black overcoat, she felt secure and almost safe and free. It was all she needed to get the courage to even step out the front door and get a cab, not knowing where she's going.

Minutes later, she decided to check-in in a hotel. She chose one of the most expensive hotels in town. Her parents would not have the slightest idea she would do so. By the end of the day, for sure they will be searching for her.

Once in her room, she spent the day thinking of her next possible plan. Her savings were not enough to pay for an extended accommodation. She would rather prefer to stay there for one night only. Besides, she had to find a place far away from home before they would catch up with her.

..o-.-.o.-.-..o

At lunch, after waking from a long slumber and having room service, she felt almost as if she had not done anything wrong, like it was any other ordinary day. She scanned the job section of the newspaper hoping she could find a job and a place to stay if that was even possible these days. She can't stay in the hotel for long. Her eyes lit up instantly when she saw an ad. A job could be waiting for her in the outskirts of London. The house was rather big and was situated by the ocean, a hundred miles away from her home. If she got lucky, she'll be as far away from her parents as she wanted to be.

The owner was in need of a housemaid, a _physically unattractive_ housemaid, it said. She frowned at the emphasis. _Why would he want an unattractive housemaid? _This Mr. Banks is weird.

She took a sip from her glass of orange juice. _Maybe he's unattractive_, thought Hermione as she further scanned the requirements after putting the glass down on the table and taking a bite of her sandwich. The monthly salary was fair enough. There was free food and lodging. It was the answer to her exact prayers. Despite the strange preference of the owner, she decided she'll give it a try. She would go there tomorrow with the perfect look of her own concept of 'unattractive.'

An idea, though pathetic, was brewing in her mind. She had something important to do. She took a quick shower and put on a faded jeans and black fitting shirt. After blow-drying her hair, she tied it in a ponytail and put on a cap and shades. She wanted to look as unfamiliar as possible if she was to walk on the streets. With her wand safely tucked in her pocket, she went outside and discovered the hallway was deserted. Once in the elevator, she was mentally making a list of the things she needed to buy. She didn't notice that someone got in the elevator, who gave her a rather momentary up and down glance in a manner that if Hermione were aware, she would have felt offended and irritated. It was as though the 'someone' was sizing her up by the clothes that she wore. It was a prestigious hotel so what were the likes of her doing there wearing somewhat tattered clothes.

T B C

A/N: That's just the beginning, nothing much in there but it's a start. Review because it helps a lot and thank you for reading this piece.


	2. Hermione's gone mad

Disclaimer: The characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

**Chapter 2**

**Hermione's gone mad**

Despite the mouth-watering breakfast in the dining table prepared by one of the maids from the Malfoy Manor, who came over everyday because of his mother's persistence, Draco can't seem to eat it. He had to admit that living alone in the big house was starting to be a hard struggle to live with everyday. It was only last year that he'd been able to leave the Malfoy Manor and decided to be independent despite his mother's disagreement. His mother was transferred to Hogwarts due to his persistence since it was not yet safe for her to live alone in their mansion. His father was locked up in Azkaban serving his sentence. Only housemaids were left in the mansion for its maintenance.

Since his father's imprisonment, he had started to enjoy the freedom he hadn't had the luxury to experience during his younger years. He had always been under his father's influence and manipulation. Lucius Malfoy's imprisonment was something he was not glad about but it still was a relief to know his father was far away from him.

Working at the Ministry of Magic as an Auror made Draco a busy man, busy enough to have no time for anything else other than chasing after the likes of his father. But when night came, he found it difficult to have a good sleep. The dark mark on his left arm was a memory he wanted to forget. Sometimes, he was visited by nightmares, where screams and pained cries of people whose death he witnessed continually drown him until he was gasping for breath. He would wake up panting and his cheeks were stained with sweat and tears. No one knew about it. He did not dare tell anyone, even Professor Dumbledore, who professed his wishes to help him forget his past and to forgive himself. In what way was this help, he didn't know. He was not interested. Maybe the old man knew something. But he tried so hard to close his mind for fear that Dumbledore might try taking a preview on his memories. For more than three years, he felt unsecured; he felt his hands were stained with blood. In the stillness of the day, the memories he wanted to bury flashed before him like it was only yesterday…

Draco felt miserable right after, thinking it was his entire fault that Death Eaters were given access to get inside Hogwarts. It was however, unfortunate for him because right after Snape and him disapparated from outside the grounds of Hogwarts, pursued by Potter and the hippogriff, they were suddenly standing in a large room. He noticed only one candle illuminated the room, its light more than enough for him to see Voldemort along with the supporters in masks waiting for him and Snape's arrival. He knew what to do the moment he was to stand in the presence of Voldemort: He had to close his mind, clear it off anything, even the slightest emotion possible that he felt at the moment.

"It felt good, isn't it? Witnessing the death of the greatest wizard whoever lived. It would even be greater to be the one to kill him though," Voldemort's voice was cold and his eyes in slits beneath the black cloak were looking directly at Draco. He wore an expression of utter pleasure and the smile on his thin lips was an indication.

Draco tried not to flinch at the sound of the voice; it was almost snake-like, murderous like nothing good would ever come out of it. It was filled with evilness. He tried to focus on where he was instead. It was an old house. He could tell by the old wood flooring and the walls that were deteriorating. From the lack of noise, he could guess that the house was located nowhere near any other houses and must have been miles away from the main road. He glanced around and saw his father smiling, more like smirking. The smirk was so familiar because it adorned Draco's face so often. Only that moment, he could not bring himself to put on the same smirk.

Notwithstanding the fact that he was not able to get the task assigned to him done, Voldemort was welcoming him like a hero. Standing his ground was all Draco could do. It was the worst part of his life, to be standing in the presence of the darkest wizard, the most evil. He could almost imagine himself floating into the air lifeless after being cursed to death due to his failure. But Voldemort's actions were contrary to what played in Draco's mind.

Snape, who did what Draco was supposed to do, which was to kill Dumbledore using the _Avada Kedavra_ curse, stood beside him, his face also expressionless, and as cold as the night breeze may have been outside. The Death Eaters surrounding them were waiting, and watching as if something interesting is bound to happen. But Draco didn't care. He realized he did not want to kill Dumbledore after all. He didn't even want to be standing in there.

Fear of what is to come next was gripping his insides but he fought it. He wished Voldemort would not speak again for the snake-like voice was terrifying even without the ghastly appearance that was hidden behind the cloak: the skeletal face and disgusting skin, where his flesh hung loosely.

It was too late now, isn't it? It was either he's going to die or live the remainder of his life serving the evil wizard. As he stood there, awaiting the verdict, it did not matter for whatever reason he did what he did. To become the instrument to Dumbledore's death was as bad as killing him.

Snape looked anything but calm though and Draco realized he must calm himself for the mental battle had begun. Before thoughts of fear and regret could fully form into a complete thought making it known in the surface, clear enough for Voldemort to sense, he drove it away, burying them in the depths of his mind. If there was anything that he wanted Voldemort to sense, it was that he was rather proud of what he did yet he felt remorse for not killing Dumbledore with his own hands.

Repeatedly in his mind, he tried to get into character, concentrating hard to put on the act he wanted the wizard in front of him to believe. If there was one thing that Snape taught him during his sixth year, it was Occlumency and Legilimency. Certainly, the Dark Lord will try to read his mind. Draco tried hard to clear his mind of the guilt, of the fear and of the regret that was swallowing him whole. He knew for certain that Voldemort will not be pleased to sense such feelings.

Months of training under Snape paid off for Voldemort easily believed he was willing to support him. Draco felt he could go nowhere else and he could not stop what was about to happen next. Then he felt it, the searing pain on his left forearm. It was over before he even realized what had happened. Voldemort himself put the mark on his arm. He became one of them and the dark mark that was permanently imprinted on his left arm was the living proof.

What followed was by far the most difficult time of his life. He was brought along by the Death Eaters to witness their endeavors of torturing and killing muggles. He never took part in it; he merely stood there, and did nothing. He could not swallow the killings and sufferings of those who were victims of being different, for being non-magic people. He would rather hear _Avada Kedavra_ countless times than the Cruciatus curse and the wailing that followed. Mudblood-killing was rampant for months and he could do nothing about it. He should have listened to Dumbledore. It was his foolishness and naïve belief that got in the way. To believe that killing someone was worth it to make his father proud was a waste. He did it all to keep his family safe from the wrath of Voldemort. Where it led him? To eternal death.

For seven months, he'd been in the company of the most evil of Death Eaters. By now, if Dumbledore were still alive, Hogwarts would have still been open and he would not have been a Death Eater.

Draco felt braver than he was when he came to a decision that he want out. He was ready to surrender to the Ministry of Magic, serve a life sentence in Azkaban and pay for all he has done. He thought it was better there than in the rotting place where they hide. But something happened.

"Draco, I know what you're planning to do. I advice that you listen to me first," Snape, who was looking rather pale, guided him inside an empty room, after making sure that all the other Death Eaters were outside hunting for preys and Voldemort was somewhere having a meeting with his most-loyal and trusted supporters and allies from different nations. It was unusual that Snape was not with them.

Apparently, Snape was told by the Dark Lord that the time has come for Draco to start killing muggles too. He was still thinking of this piece of information Snape told him when a mild shake on his shoulders jolted him out of his stupor. Snape disclosed to him that the death of Dumbledore was all a _ploy_ to make the Dark Lord believe that it was safe to come out to the wizarding world. Since Dumbledore, the man Voldemort feared the most, exist no more, there was no need to live in hiding. And as expected, Voldemort believed as planned.

Draco was astounded. He could not explain what he felt at the thought that Professor Dumbledore was still alive, only hiding, biding his time. The old man was brilliant, having a plan to counter the dark side. Everybody, including him believed that the greatest wizard had died after being killed by Snape supposedly by the _Avada Kedavra_ curse. But it was beyond a brilliant plan, a stage to set the final battle, a plan to disarm the dark side, a plan to catch them off guard. "I suggest that you continue blocking your mind as it will be dangerous for the both of us if the Dark Lord should learn about this. I'm still planning for our escape before the war begun." Snape's lips were formed into a tight line, looking grim but determined.

As the final battle drew near, Voldemort thought that it would be better for Draco to start killing mudbloods and muggles. It would make him a complete Death Eater. Draco knew this was coming as Snape told him, but not this soon. He would kill no one; he would not kill for Voldemort. It was revolting enough to think of having been the cause of Dumbledore's death, what more to kill with his bare hands. Even though he knew of the truth, he was, in the eyes of those who knew what happened at Hogwarts, the sole reason for all that has happened.

It was inevitable. The day has come for the truth to come out. Voldemort was furious; he was outraged when the news about Dumbledore still alive reached him. Before Draco could get a taste of such anger, Snape and he took hold of an old muggle newspaper. He was puzzled at first as to what the newspaper was needed for. "Today is the time that we meet with Dumbledore," Snape said, determined to get out of there unscathed, "and to never return to this wretched place again." When Draco touched the newspaper, which he realized was a portkey he felt his stomach being ripped off its place, his whole body jerked sideways. Then for a second, in a blurred vision, he lay still on the ground, he could smell the familiar scent of forest woods and fresh mowed grass. They were standing outside the grounds of Hogwarts. He looked at Snape who guided him to stand and they both walk towards the gate where they were welcomed by Hagrid. To Draco's surprise, he felt glad to see Hagrid but chose not to show it.

Once inside the castle, the corridors and the stairs all seemed to pass by so fast and before he knew it, they were inside Professor Dumbledore's office. He looked at the old man in disbelief. He was sure he saw the curse heat him squarely on the chest.

"Snape, well done," the old man seated behind the desk said, loud enough to break the trance. "Draco," his voice was old with age but he looked determined and serious, "I hope that you will join the Order of the Phoenix whose sole objective is to defeat Voldemort. As you may know, or maybe not, Snape here is a member of the Order."

"I know it must have been hard for you to be forced to serve Voldemort for several months. The time has come for you to prove where your loyalty truly lies. I know for a fact that you did not mean to do what you did. I saw you were in doubt, so unsure and were only acting out of fear for your family especially your mother's safety. I know you're not a killer Draco. I don't want you to blame yourself. If it weren't for you, our plan might not have worked. Though I'm very sorry you had to be brought into the play uninformed."

Draco was able to digest what he said but was unable to form a reply. He was thinking of his family, his mother. What would happen to her? Just then, someone came into the office that forced him to look at the sound of a door being opened. It was his mother. She looked terrified and at the same time glad to see him. She immediately approached Draco and hugged him tight. She whispered "I'm sorry for not being able to save you from becoming one of them, but I know Draco, I know you're not one of them, you never were. That mark is nothing more but a mark." She caressed the mark as though it wasn't there, as her tears begin to flow once more at the sight of the vicious mark. She was sobbing now and all he could do was hug her back. It somehow calmed him that there were two people who believed that he never became one of Voldemort's supporters: It was his mother and most of all, Professor Dumbledore.

"As I promised the last time we saw each other, your mother will be safe. About your father, I'm afraid I could not do anything about it…" he seemed regretful and saddened.

"Professor, I…I don't know what to say." There was a lump in his throat that he was even surprised he managed to speak. "Thank you for believing in me that much and for having me here again. It will be a privilege to work for the Order."

As though Professor Dumbledore did not want to waste any more time, he led Draco and Snape to one of the classrooms on the ground floor. The young members of the Order were there, training with the older ones. It was hard for Draco to take it all in at once, especially when all of them were shooting him not looks of rage but of pity and some where hard to read. He could not bring himself to look them straight in the eye. Unreadable expressions would have been more preferable than those of pity which was unmistakably there. He saw a lot of familiar faces. There was Harry, Ron, Hermione (the Golden Trio, of course, who he can't even bring himself to despise and mock now as he did before), Ginny, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Luna, Blaise, even Crabbe and ­­­­­­Goyle, and many others, who were as young as he but showed utter determination to see to it that the evil would stop.

His gaze traveled back to Hermione, who was looking at him with nothing but a blank expression in her face. She was a Mudblood. He used to call her that and he sure was so pleased with himself to get to her whenever he had the chance. Chills run down his spine at the horrible memory of the deaths he witnessed. Many Mudblood died and he witnessed almost all of it. He felt ashamed of himself to be standing in her presence, to have made her life a living hell in the past.

At that moment, he swore, he would never ever call her a Mudblood again; he would never ever look down at her for he realized she was better than he could ever be after all of this. She had chosen a side right from the start. And it was the _right_ _side _she had chosen while him, Draco, a guilt-filled and anti-social person he was to become eventually, had not even had the courage to say no to his father and decide for himself.

There were trainings and lessons on defenses against the dark arts. Hogwarts became the headquarters and a training ground for the upcoming battle. Crabbe and Goyle were once again behind him. He started to shun himself away from the others though in a discreet way. They were civil to him, and seemed to be not talking about anything that happened during their sixth year and his _supposed service_ to Voldemort for a couple of months. Professor Dumbledore must have told them that he was a part of the plan and that what mattered was he chose the right side before the final battle.

So it came. The inevitable battle was sure to cause a lot of death on both sides. Voldemort was defeated by Harry with the help of Professor Dumbledore and his two best friends. The Order of the Phoenix succeeded in capturing almost all the Death Eaters including Draco's father. They all showed profound courage and unity. Draco had never been more proud of himself. Through Dumbledore's insistence and recommendation to the Ministry of Magic, Draco became an Auror. His loyalty may have been questionable but Dumbledore, seeing through recommended him for the job. . .

Here he was an Auror, still feeling miserable and remorseful about what he did a couple of years ago. He didn't socialize much with the other Aurors. The only time he would talk to them was during meetings when they go over the leads they received with regard to the whereabouts of Death Eaters.

Still seated at the dining room, he massaged his temple to relieve himself of the head ache that suddenly plagued him. His appetite had completely deserted him. The place he called home was both a comfort and a cause of suffocation. His heart sank at the unpleasant sight of the mess that littered his living room.

Leads as to the Death Eaters' hide out was beginning to stir the Ministry in alarm. Voldemort's defeat doesn't mean his supporters were going to stop torturing muggles, mudbloods and wizards and witches. He traced the dark mark which hadn't stirred for a long time indicating Voldemort was indeed defeated. Looking once more at the mess, he remembered that he had put an ad for a housemaid the other day. He could have just asked an old housemaid from the Malfoy Manor but he didn't. What he needed was a new one; someone who was not comfortable with him; someone who would not poke her nose on his businesses and would just leave him alone; and finally, someone who would follow his orders and not his mother's. He was hoping he'll get a call today. Just then, the phone rang, breaking the silence and eerie atmosphere in the house. He answered the call almost lazily.

..o-.-.o.-.-o..

On her way back to the hotel, something caught her eye. Posted on one of the windows of the store was a picture of her, no doubt. _So they figured out I ran away and won't be coming back anytime soon._ Why, she was not surprised. She was hoping it would take a whole day before the streets got bombarded with posters with her face on it. It was embarrassing to have her face broadcast in the whole of London. She looked around before taking the poster off the window. She crumpled it into a ball and put it inside her pocket. But then to her great disappointment, she saw a lot of posters were posted nearby as she walked hurriedly back to the hotel. Snatching each and every poster was impossible so she hurried back to the hotel instead, head bowed.

At the hotel, Hermione proceeded to fitting a black shoulder length wig. Posters were for the mean time forgotten. She tied the wig in a messy bun then decided a ponytail looked better, while letting some short hair dangle limply on her forehead, almost covering her forehead and half her eyes. She wore black-rimmed eyeglasses which were not round-shaped (thank Merlin), to conceal her eyes. She got all of it from a shop nearby for a rather large sum of money. Remembering how the saleslady eyed her suspiciously as she paid at the counter as if she's up to something that is no good at all almost made her want to postpone the plan.

She checked herself in the mirror in different angles and realized that she may not look like the physically unattractive housemaid itself as she had intended but it nonetheless showed she's _different_. Different in the bad sense of the word. Well, she almost looked like Moaning Myrtle if she were to wear round-shaped eyeglasses. Nonetheless, she was an epitome of a girl without style who has gone mad, or to simply put it, someone who hasn't heard of hair care and beauty products. Worst was she obviously had no sense of self-pity.

The finished product of her wild imagination looked ridiculous but tolerable nonetheless. She was set for tomorrow. If she could only use magic she would have gone to the extremes such as putting freckles on her cheeks or changing the color of her eyes or maybe do something to make her more unrecognizable than she already was. But as a law-abiding witch, she thought against it because it would be illegal. She would risk the wizarding world to being exposed to muggles. It would be a shame to use magic for her selfish interests. 'No wizard or witch shall use magic for the reason of fulfilling one's interest,' was a clear mandate unless they've changed it. She stuck with the law-abiding Hermione for she had already broken too many laws in one day. Not actually laws but then she did something she would never ever thought of doing. There's no other choice except to do the disguise the muggle-way.

The next day, after a hot shower and headache-inducing hair blow-drying, she was ready to put on the disguise. Hopefully, no one would ever think that she's Hermione Granger. One thing has to result from all her hard work and creativity if she could call it that. She had to nail this job. According to the man she talked with yesterday, she was the first to inquire about the job. Maybe there are not too many physically unattractive people out there. But what caught her attention was that he sounded _oddly familiar_. Maybe it was just her imagination. And imaginations aren't real anyway so she did not bother think of the voice any longer than she pondered on it. Although it bothered her that the moment she heard his cool and baritone voice, her breath caught in her throat. She had this feeling that he's somehow good-looking. "Hermione, you're looking for a job, not a love interest," she muttered under her breath as she applied a light make-up. She can't stand the sight of her face looking pale.

Along with the accessories for her new look she also bought a couple of outfits, very unattractive and conservative by her real standards. Something she wouldn't be caught wearing at Hogwarts or around town. It fitted her fine because she still looked decent despite it being not her style.

After packing her things in a carry-all bag, she checked out of the hotel, not minding the strange looks the people at the lobby threw at her direction. It was one of her strengths to tolerate people. But there was one person she wasn't able to ignore. In fact, she did a double take the moment she got a glimpse of him coming from the lounge area nearby and was headed to the receptionist desk. She had to fight the urge to hide behind the plant when she saw Blaise Zabini. For a moment, she felt exposed but then she remembered the disguise she was sporting. She straightened and walked a little slower and somehow confidently, maintaining her distance from him.

Even though she gave a fake name, it would be better he would not see her up close. It didn't escape her keen observation that he was rather looking at her with an odd expression when their paths crossed. It was as if he was asking where she came from. For obvious reasons, she looked out of place, like an outcast in a crowd of stylish people. Once Blaise was out of sight, she sighed in relief, realizing she had been holding her breath. Whenever there was Blaise around, there has to be a Draco Malfoy nearby. Just in case, she looked around even if it was a little too late of a reaction for signs of the Slytherin. No sign of him.

..o-.-.o.-.-o..

During the journey, at the muggle bus, she was thinking of a name she could use temporarily. Besides that, she was also thinking why Blaise had to be in the same bus as she was. He was sitting five rows down behind her._ I hope he isn't going to the place where I'm going. _

Hermione resumed her quest for finding a name. Before arriving at the destination she finally got one. Rangie Evans. _That sounds cool. I hope Harry's mom won't mind me using her last name._

..o-.-.o.-.-o..

She arrived in the late morning, it was almost noon. The journey was tiring but worth it when she saw the house and the ocean. She was beyond amazed at the magnificent beauty, like it would be a grand vacation to live there, not just some sort of a hiding place for her.

The house was facing the ocean, almost situated near a low cliff, overlooking the clear blue horizon. The sun was at its peak, giving a shimmering surface to the calm ocean. The breath-taking view made her wish she had a house like it. That's just how she pictured her house to be. All the more, she became determined to be hired. Everything seemed to be perfect in that place. The environment was relaxing despite the screaming fact that if she's hired, she'll be a housemaid and definitely not a _guest_. She would have to wait for two weeks to pass by before heading to Hogwarts.

_Two weeks. That's not too long a time._

T B C

A/N: About Legilimency and Occlumency (the magical defense of the mind against external penetration; an obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one). I'm quite not sure but I hope I didn't make it sound so unbelievable and out of the ordinary, especially the 'Voldemort and Draco part' which is not completely believable at all that I hesitated to even post this chapter. Thank you for reading and do review.


	3. Unlucky

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

**Chapter 3**

**Unlucky**

As a friend and a co-Auror, Blaise had always failed after attempts of trying to get Draco to open up to him. He had been failing for almost three years and he was not about to give up yet. Since Draco's return from the dark side, he had been so secretive that Blaise had no idea what had made him shun himself, and eventually be someone so unlike him. It is not unknown to Blaise that Draco had filed a one-week leave from the Ministry of Magic. News got around fast. A lot speculated he was fired. Blaise knew better than that. Draco would never get himself fired, that's for sure. It was the only thing he got, his job: the sanity that was pulling him all together.

Paying a friend a visit was harder than he expected, given that he had no idea where exactly Draco lived. It's a good thing he got the address from the office, which was not much of help given that it was the first time he ever tried to find the place.

After a long travel time of about an hour made him wished he should have apparated to save him from a stiff neck but he couldn't risk to be seen. Accidents still happen while apparating and he wouldn't want to splinch himself. He then noticed a girl standing there, the one he saw at the hotel, with a messy pony-tailed black hair, black-rimmed eyeglasses and old-fashioned style which made her look older than what her probable age was. She looked like Moaning Myrtle. Only, she was much alive, not transparent and floating.

He cleared his throat to make his presence known. "Excuse me. May I know what your business is here?" She turned around immediately, almost breaking her neck at her sudden movement, her eyes widened and her mouth slightly open. She gave him a surprised look, as though she was caught cheating. The expression was almost unbearable, that he couldn't suppress a faint smile. It did not escape him that her eyes were brown, deep-set and very expressive. She looked familiar. Not Moaning Myrtle but definitely someone else. He can't think of where he had seen her before.

But when he looked once more, as fast as the thought of her being familiar entered his mind, he brushed it off. It was his first time to encounter a girl with a weird style and sense of self-expression so it was impossible that they've met before.

..o-.-.o.-.-o..

_Uh oh w_ere the first words that came into her mind when she saw Blaise. The mere fact that he was there told her something bad was bound to happen. Really bad and she's starting to get nervous, her palms were sweating and she's feeling a knot in the pit of her stomach. She was suddenly finding it hard to stand. She hoped she got it all wrong and it was an accident that they were both there. _It's just a coincidence, just coincidence._

"Uhm, I am here to apply as a housemaid," it sounded more of a squeak than her normal voice. She couldn't quite meet his eyes. But if she did not meet his eyes head on, he might suspect something. Hermione concentrated on looking on his eyebrows instead. _Why isn't he going away?_ The last thing she wanted was a reunion with the members of the wizarding community. And Blaise surely belonged in it. She was not supposed to meet any one from her past until two weeks.

A loud thud startled Hermione out of her shaken state. She was glad for the distraction but regretted it afterwards when she looked at were the noise came from. The bad that she thought of earlier had just happened. And she gasped in total shock. She was without a doubt horrified. It was only a faint gasp and it went by unnoticed. Before she knew it, 'he' was right in front of them wearing a navy blue long-sleeved shirt and pants, in other words, muggle clothes. He was standing a few feet away, looking at Blaise with an inquiring look. 'He' didn't notice her obvious presence. That gave her the time to observe him and to calm her nerves if it was possible at all because any minute now, he would see her there, as visible as the sun was in the sky that early noon.

Hermione wasn't imagining things at all when she thought he sounded familiar. The voice did belong to someone she knew and that was no other than Malfoy himself. He was in fact real and now standing only a few feet away from her. How was she supposed to know she'd be applying as housemaid to a wizard, not to mention Malfoy? Didn't it say in the ad that it was a certain Mr. Banks? What is Malfoy doing here?

Her questions were overshadowed by what stood in front of her. He hasn't changed a bit, still the same since she last saw him years ago. But something was different. Not physically for it was within him that changed. There was sadness in his eyes. Apart from that, he also looked tired, like he hadn't slept in days. She couldn't hear what they were talking about. Does it have anything to do with the Death Eaters at large? Despite being away for three years, she was not badly informed of the news that got around the wizarding community which was at most about the possible leads to the Death Eaters who have escaped and went to hiding. She brushed the thoughts away, feeling stupid to be pondering about it when there was nothing she can do. She was not an Auror. _But still, you're a member of the Order, _her conscience reminded her.

They were talking about something personal she presumed because they were whispering. When she could not hear anything clear, she looked away and pretended not to care. _Why am I so unlucky? _Her only chance of escaping the marriage was obviously down the drain now. _So much for hoping our paths won't cross._ Hermione knew so well that the dread of talking to him will end if she got out of there, run as fast as she could and never look back. And she supposed _now_, while 'he' didn't take notice of her yet, would be the perfect time. To her dismay, she can't run away. She was glued on the spot like a statue, hanging around for the worst. The feeling of belongingness was now extinguished. Disappointment was now taking its form more clear than ever at the thought that such a beautiful house belonged to someone such as Draco Malfoy.

Her mind drifted somewhere else again when she heard hushed voices halted and felt a pair of eyes boring holes on her face. She was not aware that she was by now acknowledged by 'him'. She felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment of being looked at by him and making him wait on her. Her bewildered eyes were met by silver ones, from which she saw sadness earlier but was now filled with puzzlement. He was frowning, which seemed to worsen his already worst appearance. Not that he looked bad. He is still good-looking. _Now where did that come from? _The suns rays must have affected her brain completely that it went totally vain.

"Are you the one who called yesterday?" Even when he spoke, she heard a hint of sadness. Where was the all-smirking Draco Malfoy she met years ago? But she never should have wondered; he already had the 'blank expression' when he came back from the dark side anyway. If ever he showed any other feelings, he tried hard to cover it.

"Yes." She should have said 'No,' and run away. But she didn't. She must be really desperate to find a hiding place. _But is it worth it? _If they were in Hogwarts and in a different situation, she would have shot him with a death glare. But since he didn't know it was her and he was addressing her in a nice way, which was weird, she thought it best to be civil and to hold her tongue. It would not be too hard for her since she had been civil to him before, when they were to work together to defeat Voldemort.

He looked at her as though he could see through her disguise. It somehow unnerved her, the way his eyes were focused on her, unwavering. She did not look away, she can't look away. For a moment, she felt magnetized by his gaze. But she can't take it; she looked at his eyebrows instead. _What if he saw through me?_ She thought she detected some recognition by the way he looked at her.

"Okay, you can go inside and start the cleaning." He said that matter-of-factly. He did not give anything away. She gaped at him, literally. _How could he be so reckless? Won't he even ask for my credentials or whatever is needed? _Even Blaise was baffled. _He didn't even ask for my name. Do I really look that unappealing?_

"You can go inside now. If you're wondering who Mr. Banks is, he's actually my gardener. Start cleaning the house and we'll see if you're hired or not when I returned before dinner. Dinner should be prepared before I get back at seven o'clock tonight. Well, let's just say this is some sort of a test. I'll tell you later if you've got the job or not." She could only nod. Even if she thought it wasn't fair, she didn't voice it out.

"I hope that's fair enough. And by the way, don't do anything out of the ordinary. I hope you know what I mean." With that statement, he left with Blaise, who shrugged at her, giving her a sympathetic look.

His retreating back gave her the signal that she should start what she was there for in the first place. She was sure to have heard Draco and Blaise resume their conversation. There was no chance of hearing what it was about and besides, she couldn't care less. She was ascending the stairs to the door. _Am I doing the right thing? _She went inside the house, still contemplating if what she did was right.

Momentarily, she forgot her dilemma, when she saw the interior of the house. It was a disaster, as though a tornado passed by for there were papers and all sorts of trash littered on the floor, candy wrappers, firewhiskey in can and butterbeers too. There were some unfinished dishes, glasses and plates on the sink when she went to check the kitchen. _Am I really going to clean all these? For what? For having some place to stay? A place to stay with that git? _She felt the urge to get out of there and go back to her parents. Maybe she could beg them not to go on with the marriage, which as of the moment as she was standing there in the living room, seemed more appealing than cleaning the mess before her. But her parents were as stubborn as she was. So, she can't turn back now, can she? She was more than horrified at the thought of living with a guy who can stand a mess like this. The living room was spacious. It was simple, yet elegant, like the owner would be proud to show it to his friends, but not in this state. She glanced at the wall clock that hung on the white wall. It was 1 o'clock in the afternoon. Her parents were probably in panic since the marriage will not take place without the bride.

There were large bay windows from which the sun's rays were supposed to pass through, bathe the living room in harmful sunlight but the blinds were all down. The only light that she could see was that from the window on the second floor. She got plenty of time before he gets back, approximately five or six hours. It wouldn't take much of her time if she would take a tour around the house, would it? Hermione glanced at the right side and she could see the garden and white swing. She moved closer and opened the sliding door which led outside. She inhaled deeply and the smell of the ocean breeze and its salty scent soothed her senses. She shivered when the cold breeze hit her full force on her face. It felt peaceful just by watching the ocean which was now rippled in waves. _It would have made a lot difference if I were to work for someone I don't know._ Hermione felt defeated for the second time._ I have to make a decision before he returns. Make up your mind will you, _she commanded herself. It kept playing in her head like a broken record. But the more she chimed herself to decide, the more confused she became. She went to the dining room and weighed her pros and cons as she sat at one of the oak wooden chairs. Her hands were clasped in front of her. This was proving to be the hardest decision-making ever.

After moments of contemplating her last options, she was left with no choice but to take it, accept her fate. It made sense to get through this now since she's not even sure if he'll hire her. What's about to happen next when he returned was beyond her control. She could just imagine the life she'll have while with him under the same roof. Pure chaos was sure to ensue once he found out. With all the strength left in her and her exhausted mind, she started her work. She went upstairs, and took notice of the paintings hanged on the wall. _So he had good taste. I would have decorated my house this way._

..o-.-.o.-.-o..

She was almost done with the cleaning. Having second thoughts as to whether she should go clean, which she supposed was his room, was what bothered her for the time being. Only two and a half hours left before dinner and she had still no idea what to cook. _How am I supposed to know what he wanted to eat? Maybe I could just poison him and have the house all to myself?_ She tried to amuse herself with the idea but dispelled it. She had too mane problems to handle to add another one on the list. There's no problem with the cooking because she can cook. The question is what does he want to eat?

_Might as well go check his room._ _After all, it's my duty to make sure everything's clean. He said ALL, didn't he? And I suppose that includes the room._ Once on the landing she felt the thick carpet under her feet. She walked a few feet and turned to the corner that led to his room. She turned the knob and found it not locked. _What if Malfoy had placed a charm against trespassers? _She cautiously opened the door, bracing herself. Contrary to her fear, nothing vicious happened when the door was completely opened. She stepped in, taking in the peace that the room seemed to offer. Her sense of smell was stirred by the scent that wafted around the room. _It was_ _probably his perfume or aftershave or soap. It smelled good though._

The light blue carpeted floor was spotless. There was nothing to clean in there. It's a different state than what she saw downstairs a while ago. There was a balcony. She opened the door and found an owl in its cage. _I have to send letters to Harry and Ron._ She made a mental note to do so but not by owl. She had to mail it to the Burrow.

The room was simple. It was so unlike its owner who was nothing but complicated. She went to the bathroom and looked at her reflection. Hardly recognizable, her hair was sticking to her forehead because of sweat. She felt her face itchy with dust. _Try cleaning the living room, the kitchen, the dining area and two bathrooms._ She hasn't cleaned any bedroom yet because they were still in good condition, not having been used for ages.

Her eyeglasses started to irritate her; it gave her an uneasy feeling since she's not used to wearing one. It kept moving out of place on the bridge of her nose. And the wig, she hadn't thought it would be so hard to maintain it in its place. Her scalp now was probably drowning in sweat. _Wait till Harry and Ron learns about this misfortune of mine._ She had no business whatsoever concerning his room so off to the kitchen she went and checked the fridge. There's meat, fish, some vegetables. Struck by an idea of what she can make for dinner, she started to work. Moments later, she had cooked a delicious meal. Whatever happened happens for a reason. She had to wait for him to return. She set the table and waited for Malfoy on the living room. Hermione had never cleaned like she cleaned that day. It was beyond her capability yet the outcome was good as she looked around the house. There's a lot of difference when she finished the tasks. The first floor was more livable.

If she's hired, then it shall be 'hello to none-stop house keeping, cleaning and dealing with Malfoy and his attitude.' It'll be a double effort on her part actually and she was not sure if she could handle it for two weeks. Malfoy will be clueless about what was about to happen under his nose. But if he didn't hire her, maybe she'll ask him to reconsider. It's almost dark and she had nowhere else to go. She didn't like the idea of wandering in a city she's not familiar with. He was her only hope. Somehow, that's hard to believe considering their past. But the fact that she was there on Malfoy's living room was a living proof of how much she needed the job, and how much she's willing to put the past behind her.

T B C

A/N: Thank you for reading.


	4. Desperate

Disclaimer: The characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

**Chapter 4**

**Desperate**

Harry and Ron looked at each other meaningfully. They were at Mr. Weasley's office. Both could not hide the stunned expressions that slipped over their faces when they heard the news. They had no idea that Hermione ran away let alone she would do such a thing. She seemed to be the kind of person who would weigh her actions first before taking action. She really was so desperate, more desperate than she sounded in the letters she sent them.

They exchanged knowing looks for a brief moment. It was fast enough not to be noticed by Mr. Weasley, who happened to be assigned with the matters regarding missing witches and wizards. Hermione's case was not really alarming since her parents were not even a part of the wizarding world. But Hermione's clearly a witch and was a daughter almost to Mr. Weasley. It was none of the Ministry of Magic's business to meddle with the problems between Hermione and her parents.

"Where do you think she's gone to?" Mr. Weasley muttered. He was worried for there was a visible frown in hi face, more like the expression one would have when there's big problem to work out. Mr. Weasley had always felt like a second father to Hermione. His fatherly figure and instincts kicked in and was instantly worried about her especially now that there were muggle killings again.

Harry well knew she could take care of herself. It's Hermione, the most resourceful person there was he knew. She would not resort to it if it wasn't her last option. Ron was thinking the same about Hermione. But then again, she's still a girl for goodness' sake. "Where could she have gone?" Ron asked, still perplexed, reiterating his father's question a moment ago.

"No one knew where she could have possibly gone to. But wherever she is, she had no plans of being found. She's been gone for almost a week. If there was anyone she would inform of her whereabouts," Mr. Weasley trailed off, eyeing the both of them, as if expecting they knew something and they would fill him in, "it would be the two of you. So, if you heard from her, better tell me." He was waiting for one of them to speak, to fill in the silence in the room.

However, Harry and Ron were speechless, clearly clueless. If ever they knew something, owing to their loyalty to her, they can't tell Mr. Weasley. This is Hermione. If she wanted them to keep a secret for her, they would. They understood simply why she ran away. Mr. Weasley was clearly aware that he won't be getting anything from Hermione's friends that he dismissed them. "That would be all. You two better get back to work." He moved over to signing the papers piled up on his desk.

Once outside the office, Ron and Harry were drowned in their own thoughts, their own speculations as to where she had run off to. "It was her parents' fault. Who in her right mind would want to be forced into a marriage with someone she barely knows? If it were me I'd probably do the same." Ron was making sense and Harry found himself agreeing. "What do we do now Harry?" Running a hand through his shaggy red hair, Ron was obviously starting to worry about Hermione too.

"I think all we have to do is wait, wait for her to tell us where she is. That's the only choice we've got so far." Harry told him, in a calm voice. Hermione will soon tell them, by hook or crook. She'll find a way to communicate with them. But this thought didn't seem reassuring enough. _Where are you Hermione? It's been a week and still now word from you._

..o-.-.o.-.-o..

What followed was even harder to comprehend. Without any question as to where she came from except for her name, which she rarely heard uttered, she was hired. She could still remember when he came later that night and saw the house. He was a bit impressed, though he didn't speak of it. It was as though he had no plan of talking to her for that long or even getting to know a little about her, which was more favorable to her. But something was not right. _Is he really this cold? _Hermione wondered one time she was cleaning and she saw Malfoy at the swing, staring blankly ahead of him, at the ocean. It was a beautiful sunny day yet he looked glum and as always, miserable. His apathy whether to her and to other people was to her advantage and she should be happy about it. She could easily go around the house not having to deal with his attitude. He was out most of the time since he's work demanded it. All that's happened lately at the house were favorable to her. That's the only consolation she's got so far since the time she came to this house.

It was late at night and Hermione was in her room, getting ready to sleep; all accessories of disguise were taken off when she realized that Malfoy has not yet arrived. She couldn't stay late to wait for him all night. Maybe he'd just apparate, no need going through the main door since Aurors are used to apparating. Exhaustion was finally overcoming her when she heard loud knocks on the door downstairs. It jolted her out of her stupor. It was more like loud pounding than knocking. If she's right, it couldn't possibly be Malfoy since he has a spare key. Letting out a frustrated groan, she pretended she didn't hear by putting a pillow over her ears. If it was Malfoy and he asked why she didn't open the door (that is if he ever got himself in), she'll make up an excuse. Right now, the call of sleep was more important. She's so tired from all the day's work. But the manner of knocking was persistently tugging her out from her feigned sleep. It was almost as though whoever he was out there had a plan of knocking down the door.

Irritatingly so, the knocking continued. She had no choice but to check who the impatient person was outside. In her desire to confront whoever it was, she hurried downstairs without putting on her disguise. She barreled down the stairs, barefoot and in her hurried steps she almost fell. She reached the window and Hermione took a peek. She got a good view of the person outside alright and her mouth hung open when she realized it was Malfoy, a drunken Malfoy to be exact. And she realized thereafter that she wasn't in disguise. She was torn between disguising herself first before opening the door or opening the door without her disguise. Panic kicked in as the pounding continued mercilessly. Her rational mind dictated her that she better open the door. She reached for the door handle and opened the door. Right after, Malfoy landed hard on the floor. He reeked of alcohol and she wondered how he was able to get home without being lost. She bet he can't even walk in a straight line much less apparate. Judging from what he looked like, she had to doubt he had the capability to do so. She had to drag him all the way to the couch. _What got into him?_

It's a good thing he's unconscious. He might see her and he would come into his senses that he had been living for almost a week with the mudblood. She disliked the idea of cleaning his mess. The _mess _was no other than he himself. But what else can she do. He looked pitiful and…desperate and pitiful. Once she had been desperate but she would never drink like he did. Hermione glanced at his unmoving form, still undecided whether to leave him there looking wasted, pretend he's not there at all and resume her disturbed sleep. But pity and duty got the best of her. She went to the kitchen and prepared a towel and a basin of lukewarm water.

After soaking the towel wet and squeezing off the water, she hesitated for a moment. She did not know where she should start. It scared her that he might suddenly wake up and demand: "You filthy mudblood! What are you doing here!" And then he would throw her out of the house. It would be the end for her. Who knows, he might not have grown out of his animosity towards mudbloods like her. He might only be acting, looking remorseful for what he did.

She scolded herself for thinking such things. The worst scenario that her mind conjured can't materialize because he was beyond drunk. He was as good as dead. She bet he'd wake up at around noon or late afternoon tomorrow. He could sleep all he wanted because she's sure he had no work during weekends. She wiped his face first with the towel, doing it with so much care that it's almost funny. It had been a habit for her to observe him discreetly. He didn't seem to notice so she had been, for a week, observing him, taking in the detail of how his eyes seemed dull, how he would sigh deeply as though he got the whole on his shoulders. It was the first time she got a good look of up-close, without feeling scared that he might narrow his eyes at her for staring at him too long.

A soft moan or groan escaped his slightly parted lips and for a moment, she almost kissed him. But she held herself, shaking her head for the absurd desire that came over her. Every night since she came there, she was for a moment, it seemed, awakened by what sounded like a moan or groan of pain coming from his room. She wasn't sure if it came from there for her room was not that far away from his, they were in fact in the same floor.

She chose to ignore the sound for nights now, reminding herself it was not her business to check what might have been happening in there. Maybe he was snogging or shagging with a woman he brought in she didn't know about. Her train of thoughts that were starting to get malicious was disturbed as Malfoy grunted and stirred when the wet cloth came in contact with his skin. She never thought in all her life that she'd do this for Malfoy. She never dreamed of even having to touch him, let alone wipe his face which she once punched with her fist. He always made it clear that mudbloods like her are not worthy to stand in the presence of purebloods like him; that they don't deserve to be breathing the same air and all that nonsense talking. Yeah right, what she was doing now was pathetic. What was she now, his _mother_? As far as she knew, only mothers do this kind of thing. Or better yet, wives do this to their husbands who come home drunk and wasted.

He was still wearing a black overcoat and she could tell he was sweating underneath. It took her several minutes to free him from the overcoat. That was when she saw it. It was one thing to know he had the _dark mark_. It was another to actually see it brandished like that. She shuddered at the sight of the skull with a snake tongue, imprinted in black on his left forearm. It almost looked as though it had only been yesterday that the mark was imprinted on his pale skin. She wondered if it hurt. She must have been staring too long at the dark mark that she felt irked. She dipped the cloth on the basin and squeezed off the water. She wiped his neck and face carefully. She was hesitant at first to touch his left forearm but realized she was being silly.

He was breathing deeply, which meant he was sleeping, off to dreamland maybe. She went to his room to get a blanket and draped it around him. Before living, she looked at him one last time, deep in thought on what brought this on. Day by day, she found herself wasting her _time _and _brain cells_ wondering what had happened to the arrogant boy she used to abhor. It was as though she was sucked in every time she saw him. His _misery_ cannot be hidden by the mask he was wearing. He was not a good actor after all. In fact, he failed miserably in pretending he was living fine by himself.

Professor Dumbledore knew what had happened, and surely Professor Snape too. But no one else really knew what had transpired while Malfoy was _supposedly_ serving Voldemort. For sure, it was something unforgettable; something big to have rendered Malfoy this _cold_ and_ distant_, to have made him look like he doesn't want to live.

She retreated to her room, remembering Professor Dumbledore's letter. She had another week to decide whether to go see him or not. When her back hit the soft bed she immediately fell asleep. All thoughts of what forced Malfoy to get drunk forgotten.

..o-.-.o.-.-o..

The next morning, she was right; he was still on the couch, sleeping like a pig. She looked him over, from a cautious distance. He looked much good-looking when he's asleep, the smirk and scowl absent from his face. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen his smirk or scowl for a long time. She suddenly wished he would smirk at her when he woke up, just so she'd be assured that he's fine. She can't seem to take her eyes off of him. She took in every detail of his closed eyes, nose and lips she almost kissed last night. Then it hit her. _I shouldn't be thinking of him that way. This is not right. This is all pity and nothing more._

It's only seven o'clock in the morning. She busied herself with pruning the plants in the garden even if there was nothing to do in there. It was only recently that Mr. Banks came to take care of the garden. He seemed friendly and she learned he'd been serving the Malfoy's for a decade. Sometimes, the thought of totally disclosing her true identity was tempting. What could Malfoy do to her? Kill her? He can't do that. He may have hated her so badly but not to the point of wanting to kill her. Well, maybe he'd hurt her for lying to him. She can't be sure enough. No one even knew she was _living _with Malfoy.

It's been tiring for her to wear such a hideous wig and wardrobe. And to think, she even thought those clothes looked good on her the first time she tried it on. How she missed her old self. She made sure he wouldn't have the slightest idea it was her, his most-hated mudblood in the whole wizarding world. And she was successful at doing it up to now wasn't she.

After watering the plants, she went inside and started cleaning, whatever there was left to clean. Malfoy was still sleeping, unmindful of the sunlight that bathed him. She found herself wondering about in Malfoy's room which was connected to a small office which she noticed only then. Invasion of privacy maybe, but she was blinded by curiosity. She went to his table and saw paper works neatly piled. After minutes of shuffling over the papers, she found nothing interesting. On her way out of his office, she noticed a newspaper folded on the bedside table.

She need not see what it was. She took the newspaper and her knees weakened when she saw crystal clear what was in there. A news about a number of muggle attacks. There were attacks almost near her house. There was no news in there about her _missing _which didn't matter but she can't help not noticing. Yesterday, while Malfoy was at work, she had sent a letter to the Burrow by means of mail, told Harry and Ron that she was safe but she didn't tell them she was living with Malfoy. How she wished she told them, but then that might not be such a good move. She had to go to Hogwarts. She had to know if her parents were still safe. She had to talk to Professor Dumbledore.

_Why did Professor Dumbledore want me back? Has it something to do with the muggle attacks? Or was it something else?_

T B C


	5. Defeated

Disclaimer: Characters belong to J. K. Rowling but the story belongs to me ; )

Chapter 5: Defeated**  
**

When she came late that afternoon, she was welcomed by the sight of the castle, the grounds, the smell of the tress and the dark forest. Even the latter was a reminder of those years she spent at Hogwarts. Most especially, there was Hagrid who greeted her with warmth.

"Welcome back Hermione! I can't believe how tall you've grown," that was Hagrid's first words when he opened the gates for her.

She could only smile back at the giant who hasn't changed a bit since they last saw each other. What she could do to show how glad she was to see him was give him a warm hug.

"Oh Hagrid, it was also nice seeing you! How's everything at Hogwarts?"

"Well, nothing much has changed, except maybe there were students who were more stubborn than you and Harry and Ron—oh! —Dumbledore told me to bring you to him immediately once you arrived. Let's go."

Once she entered the castle, walking alongside Hagrid, Hermione found the familiar place almost comforting. She realized how much she missed Hogwarts and how much she missed this world. She's back at Hogwarts, wandering the hallways, looking at empty classrooms, glancing at the paintings where people never seized to move, she realized how glad she was to be back here even though it was only a quick visit.

At the same time, she felt nervous as to why Professor Dumbledore would want to talk to her personally. He sounded almost insistent that they meet immediately. She had a hunch that this meeting was about the muggle killings, not to mention, the 'mudblood' killings in particular that had got the Ministry in disarray.

Hagrid departed at once when Hermione had reached the landing to the office. After muttering the password, she was on the staircase moving up to the office she rarely visited during her younger years. She had only been in Professor Dumbledore's office countable times. She opened the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside. Hermione looked ahead to see the wizard seated behind his desk, hands entwined in front of him. To be standing there again was disarming and familiar somehow.

"Hermione, welcome. Please take a seat. I would like to talk to you about something, a very personal request that need to be said in person," his voice was weak, as though he was having a hard time to get the words out. There was no denying that he was already too old with age.

"Professor, I am glad to see you," was all she could say while taking a seat across from him, wondering again what he wanted that brought this meeting ahead of schedule.

Hermione immediately went to Hogwarts once she received a very urgent message from him through owl of course. She had also inquired regarding her parent's. After all, she's a member of the Order, and her family's safety is in question due to the danger that the Death Eaters still pose while at large. She was more than glad to hear that they were fine. All security measures were taken to keep them safe.

"You're probably very curios as to what this is all about, I presume," he gave a smile that reassured the request would be something she will be able to do for him. But she can't think of anything the leader of the Order would want from her— unless, this has something to do with her going back to doing her job as a member.

She's almost certain that it was what he wanted her to do. Nothing could have prepared her for what she heard next. "I know you've been in hiding at Draco's house," he stated it as though it was common knowledge. She wanted to ask how he knew but decided against it. This is Dumbledore, he probably knew all along. And she wouldn't be surprised if he knew why she ran away. But Hermione wanted answers, "But how did you know professor?" She was not successful at hiding her inquisitiveness.

"Let's just say I know the whereabouts of all members of the Order. Don't worry, I haven't told anyone about it," his eyes were sparkling with amusement. "How is it living with Draco?" For an old man, that sounded like prying for Hermione's liking.

She didn't know exactly what to say. How was it, she wondered herself. She chose to say it simply.

"Well, it's been hard, I mean you probably also know that I'm disguising myself. That would be the interesting part of it. Mlafoy's treated me in a civil way; I guess he would do that since he didn't know it was me."

"Hermione, don't you still believe after all these years that Malfoy has changed? That he would not treat you indifferently like he did before?"

"But Professor that still didn't change the fact that he was once a Death Eater. I could have seen the mark; it makes me uneasy whenever I see it." Though she had only seen it once, she can't take the image off her mind. The image seemed to have fixed itself in her mind.

"Even though that gave you much discomfort, you didn't walk away. Why?"

"Because I got nowhere else to go, I need a place to stay. And that place presented itself to me at a time when I was most desperate."

"Have you noticed anything different with Draco?" She was glad for the change of subject. Now it shifted to Malfoy. "What do you mean professor?"

"Didn't he seem a bit different to you?"

"Not that I noticed. But there is something different about him. He's somehow lost; I don't know how to put it, it was like he's miserable; not having enough sleep I suppose."

"Do you have any idea what could be wrong?"

"To be honest, I don't know what's happening to him."

Professor Dumbledore nodded as if taking into consideration what she said so far. Then he handed her the newspaper that was folded in half. She took it and noticed it was dated two years ago. She skimmed the front page and there it was: news about a woman who was murdered.

"_The woman was identified to be Alexa Wedger, Draco Malfoy's fiancée. At the night that he_

_ planned to propose to her, her lifeless body was found in her apartment. This was believed _

_ to be the works of the Death Eaters who were still at large. No one knew the exact motive _

_ behind the murder. There were speculations that she was murdered for being acquainted with _

_ Draco Malfoy, once a Death Eater who had changed sides before the war. But the fact could _

_ not be discarded that she's a muggle-born witch. Her death was therefore another addition _

_ to the list of muggle-born killings happening recently."_

"Looking at your expression, it seemed you didn't know about it."

Hermione's mind was racing with a lot of questions. First, how come she never read about it in the newspapers? Had she been uninformed? Second, she never thought that Malfoy would one day plan to marry a muggle-born. She could clearly remember how much he despised her lack of magical bloodline. She didn't expect Malfoy could have married some who's not a pureblood if the woman was not murdered.

"Professor, I didn't know. Do you mean this could be the reason why Malfoy's been acting miserable?"

"Yes, I think it is. Draco still felt guilty for not being able to save her. And now, there have been a series of killings and he'd been on top of it, he's spent most of his time in the office thinking of strategies to put a stop to it."

"But it had been more than a year…why can't he..?"

"Draco's experiences for the past years had contributed to what he is now. I don't know how to ask you of this Hermione but I hope you will think about it. "

"What is it Professor?" Hermione was preparing herself for the task that he would be asking her to do which without any doubt includes Malfoy.

"I want you to come back to the Order. Help us put a stop to these killings that had been happening."

She was momentarily surprised. At the back of her mind, she had expected this but not this soon. Her thirst for combat was awakened at the thought of searching and battling the Death Eaters. She admits that she wanted the murders to stop and now would probably the right time to do that.

"I would be more than happy to return to the job I left years ago."

"Apart from that Hermione, I would like to ask if it would be possible that you continually live with Draco."

"What?! I don't understand why I have to live with Malfoy. How about the marriage I ran from?"

"About that, I almost forgot to tell you. I have talked with your parents. They agreed to do without the arranged marriage."

"How did you do it? What did you tell them?"

"Well, that is the problem. You see, I have to tell them you where in love with someone else, and that the day you ran away, you went to him, to elope with him."

"Professor, please don't tell me it is what I think it is. Don't tell me you told them I'm with Malfoy."

"You're right. I told them that you are with him."

She didn't need to hear everything. "You told my parents that I was with Malfoy?! That I eloped with him?!" She didn't mean to scream like that especially at Professor Dumbledore. What else could she do besides that? It's not possible that her parents would buy that rubbish. She even didn't want them to think that she's with Malfot, the dislikable prat. But to call him prat seemed inappropriate now they're adults.

"I thought it would help stop your parents' determination to marry you with someone you undoubtedly do not fancy."

She was at a lost for words. She was thankful that she's sitting for she felt her knees weakened. If she was standing, she would have fainted. The thought of having to marry someone she didn't know was a big problem. She didn't expect other people's meddling with her problem would lead to an even bigger problem. And this is Professor Dumbledore who's meddling with her life. Surely, there's more to it than just that. She could feel there's a bigger crisis about to come. She could feel that the surprises are not yet over. Not yet.

"I did this because I wanted you to help Draco regain confidence in him. I want you to look after him."

Does he know what he's saying? How can she possibly do all of it? He is asking for the impossible; asking for too much.

"That's impossible. How sure are you that he would let me? This is Malfoy Professor, he's the most stubborn person there is."

"But we could try Hermione. You can try. This is like hitting two birds with one stone. We could put a stop to the killings; at the same time we help Draco recover from what's been haunting him."

Hermione felt numb after the meeting. She can't imagine living with _him_. She would go mad. He wouldn't even talk to her so how will she be able to help him if they do not share as much as an acknowledgement of each other's presence?

She hasn't given her consent yet to this. So why did she feel defeated?

To be continued…

A/N: Thanks for reading. Please review. Let me know what you think.


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